


Fragile, Fallable (Mortal)

by checkerbee



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Pre-Relationship, Revenant Being Revenant (Apex Legends), They ended up having a chat, i just wanted to write them fighting, time to play: spot the half-formed idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28914786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkerbee/pseuds/checkerbee
Summary: Hound and Rev come to an understanding.Aka: I wanted to write a fight.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Revenant (Apex Legends), Bloodhound/Revenant (Apex Legends)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Fragile, Fallable (Mortal)

**Author's Note:**

> It's 6 AM

Their stalemate was meant to come to a head eventually, Revenant thinks as he watches Hound struggle in his grip. He just never imagined it would be like this, with fingers digging into the arm holding the hunter up, nails dragging lines through paint in a way that must be painful, and a mask cast aside to the ground at his feet.

They attempt to find purchase, leverage to pull themselves up and take some of the pressure off their throat and he tilts his head down and to the side, meets their eyes. There's something like satisfaction curling within him at the anger he sees there, the fear that flickers just beneath it. 

"You've been here before, haven't you?" He asks, taps the claw-tip of one of his fingers against their cheek and a heavy boot connects with his knee in response. It knocks his balance off, allows them a second to drag in a ragged breath and he sighs, drops them to the ground and listens to them choke and gasp as their lungs fill. 

They're human, disappointingly so. Fragile, fallible, mortal. 

He doesn't expect an answer to his question, doesn't care for one any more than he does in knowing them beyond the game they so often like to play in the arena. What he does care about is the spark in their eyes when they meet his, the emotions that bleed onto their face as their hand wraps around the handle of one of the many knives they carry. 

It's slipped free from its sheath and buried in his leg in a matter of seconds, sliding past metal tendons and into the delicate wiring underneath, and they huff out another desperate, choking breath as he stumbles. 

He doesn't fall though, not until another knife carves its way into the struts and wires threading through his hips. For a moment artificial nerves go numb before coming to life with a white hot agony that leaves his vision fuzzy and fading. He rolls heavily to the side, wraps a hand around their jaw and gets bitten in response, their legs kicking into his abdomen like a cat that's been put on its back. 

They hiss like one too, voice rasping over something in their native tongue as they hook an arm over his and force it down at an awkward angle that's meant to break. It loosens his grip enough for them to break free and they roll away, scramble for the axe that had been flung away earlier in the fight and bring it up between them. 

Testing, Rev makes an aborted move forward and they step to the side in a halting circle with him at the center. It keeps the distance between them even and Rev flexes his fingers, gets his barings as their lungs finally recover from his attempted strangulation. 

They don't relax though, every line of them waiting for him to re-engage. In response, he drops back to ground with a groan, signally a pause to the fight. 

"You're harder to kill than I thought you would be." He says and they snort, changing their stance to something more reserved. 

"Many have tried." They glance toward their mask, discarded and broken in the dirt a few meters away, and grimace. "Why are you?"

"We're in a murder game, aren't we?"

They focus back on him, then take a deep breath and exhale. It melts some of the tension out of their body, leaves them looking deceptively relaxed, but he notes that their axe is still held firmly in their hand. 

"It's personal, you coming after me." They say and he hums, looks up toward the sky instead of at the obvious question in their expression. 

He hums.

"You haven't lost yet," He chances a glance at them and finds them standing tall. They're imposing, even without the mask to hide their face from view. "And I like having a challenge." 

Their face is a lot more expressive than he would have expected though, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing in a mix of surprise and incredulity. 

"You find our fights amusing." They say it carefully, tasting the words as if they're unsure of what they mean and he huffs, props himself on his elbows as gunfire erupts off in the distance. 

Here, on their little grassy hill, they're secluded and he'd almost forgotten that they aren't the only two fighters in the arena. "It's been a long time since I've found anything to be worth my attention." 

He lets them take what they will from the words, lets them chew them over as he sits up to dig the knife out of his hip, the fire there turning into a dull ache that eats at his nerves. He tosses it back toward them, then the one from his knee, and they inspect them for a moment before slipping them back into their sheathes. 

"If you want a challenge, find me again and we will fight." They say as they retrieve their mask. "But do note bare me to their eyes." 

"Afraid of a little press?" He scoffs and their previous ease melts away, cools to something hard and reserved. That, in and of itself, should not leave him feeling bereft, but it does. 

He watches them slowly rebuild their mask, both figurative and literal as the announcer calls out another round. 

"I wouldn't call it fear." And he wonders what it is then. They carry themselves with a weight that he finds interesting, like they hold too many secrets close to their chest, and he'd be stupid to think that there wasn't a reason for all the secrecy. 

But it's not important for him to know and he doubts he of all people would be the one they choose to unburden themself to, so he lets it be. 

He has the promise of a challenge and an opponent to cut his teeth on. He doesn't need more than that. 


End file.
